Warriors Of Dandaka: Kaand 1 "Night Has A Thousand Eyes Chapter 14"
Pushpak Karnick
22 July 2007, 03:07“Om Gan Ganapataye Namah
Eka-dantaay Vighnahey, Vakratundaaya Dhimahi
Tanno Danti’h Prachodayaat ||”
Lakshman recognised the Ganesh Gayatri mantra as they entered the ashram. It took him some time to believe what he was seeing. After the days of barren landscape and harsh living conditions, he was beginning to accept that this region was indeed uninhabitable for the humans. The sight that met his eyes was a sweet surprise.
The land under his feet was no longer the rocky, barren land of Khandesh that they had been walking on for the past ten days.
Instead, for as far as his eyes could see, the land was covered with soft, green grass, neatly mowed and leveled. The path stretched before him for hundred feet or so, with moist soil smelling of cow dung and punctuated at regular intervals by the banana trees that he had become so familiar with. The path was decorated with colorful rangolis, weaving delicate patterns of symmetry and mythic figures on the freshly plastered surface.
The odor of ghee was quite overwhelming now, and Lakshman turned his neck to seek the origin of the hyms, and the yagna. They had entered the ashram from the east, and hence, he deduced that the yagna-kunda would be in the northeast, towards his right.
Their party had hardly taken a few steps, when their arrival was noticed by the young acolytes, and suddenly, the quiet, rhythmic chanting was supplemented by hurried whispers and scurrying of tiny feet, all getting ready to welcome their guests.
“Saumitra! Welcome to Trimbakeshwar Ashram” The man who spoke these words was a short, and stout brahmin. He moved quite slowly, due to his enormous belly, which hung in his fore in neat folds. His eyes seemed to sparkle with happiness on seeing them, and his voice was brimming with the energy and vitality of a youngster. But all was of course, not true. Maharishi Agastya was in fact, more than ten thousand years old, even elder than Guru Vashishtha.
Lakshman bowed low and touched the feet of the Rishi before he could object. He stood up, and removed the bow from his right shoulder. He unstrung the bowstring, and then joined his palms together in the gesture of respect, and goodwill.
“It would seem that the prince does not respect the traditions of the Aryans! Or else, has he forgotten the very basics of Aryan hospitality?” Agastya’s statement shocked everybody, including Lakshman.
“Gurudev, as is the custom, it is proper for the host to welcome the athithi by washing his feet and seeking his blessings. But I come here before you not as a guest, but as a snaatak, a seeker of knowledge. Under such circumstances, it would have been incorrect for you to wash my feet and treat me like an honored guest. Such honor truly belongs to Sulabha-Ma and my companions, but not to me. I ask for your forgiveness if my behavior offended you.”
“Well done, Saumitra!” Agastya seemed pleased. “It does look like the old crane, Vashishtha, has taught you well.” Lakshman was taken aback by by such a direct response to his Guru, and stood with his head bowed.
A young acolyte brought the basin of water. While Agastya was engaged in welcoming the rest of their group (he also washed the feet of the Abhir, much to Shirpa’s discomfort), Lakshman did a quick scan of the group standing behind the great Rishi.
It was a group unlike he had seen anywhere before. Most of the acolytes were Aryans, bearing familiar features that he could recognize which part of Aryavarta they came from. There were a few of Shirpa’s clan brothers, and sisters too. But they were but a handful. The rest of the crowd, Lakshman was looking upon their kind for the first time in his life. Some were fair, with blue eyes and jet black hair — especially the women, he noticed. Some were darker than Rama himself, with the lone patch of hair which bundled up into tight curls. Some were short, with razor thin eyes that penetrated the depths of your soul, while one or two did not even look human to him.
He was almost done, when he noticed that Agastya was washing Sulabha-Maa’s feet. He was surprised when he saw her actually put her hand on his head to bless him. It stayed there for the briefest of instants, and then Agastya moved on to the next guest. Strange, he thought, I always thought her to be much younger than the rest of the Rishis.
When Agastya came to Ratnakar, the last of the guests, he paused to look into his eyes and spoke softly, “I have been expecting you. Rama will have what he seeks. I also believe your journey does not end here. I will make the necessary arrangements today itself, so that you can continue ahead.” Ratnakar merely nodded.
Lakshman was surprised, and angry, when he heard these words. He had been patient while Ratnakar and Sulabha-Ma had traded secrets, but to think that even Agastya knew something that Rama did not deem him worthy of knowing, incensed him.
He controlled his emotions, taking care not to reveal his inner turmoil to anyone else.
By now, the formalities of welcome had been done, and the Rishi led them into the ashram. Lakshman was noted that the ashram was well kept and clean, like all the other ashrams around Aryavarta. The walkway was lined with colored stones, each a different color than the rest. Some sparkled like uncut diamonds, while some were the dull slate color found everywhere in Kosala. The stones ended abruptly, midway through the path. Maybe they were still building the path, he thought.
“Saumitra, it is not what you think,” Agastya’s voice surprised him. Did the sage also read minds? “No, I have no need for reading minds, my dear prince. Your face is, fortunately, or otherwise, the perfect mirror for your mind.” He paused and gestured along the path that they had walked. “Each new disciple to the ashram brings with him, or her, a piece of the land that they are leaving behind. The stones are then lined up against the pathway in the order of the arrival of the disciples. They remind us all of the varied parts of the Mother Earth which nourishes us, provides us with warmth and shelter, and yes, the occasional predator,” Agastya chuckled. “The path reminds us that though we walk on the same path, each brings to it, a stone which is unlike any other, that none of them are better or worse. That the diamond and the charcoal both meet the same fate — both end up lining the path on which the inhabitants of this ashram pursue their journey. As you can see, some of these have travelled a long long way, even crossed seas and snow-capped mountains to reach here. This is the only Guru Dakshina I ever ask from my students.”
Aah-ha, so that’s what daai-ma meant, Lakshman thought. He had heard tales about Agastya in his childhood. Daai-ma spoke of how Agastya had once drank the entire ocean to help the Devas track the Asuras who were hiding in them. She probably meant that he had crossed the oceans to foreign lands and returned back alive. He had a flash of insight. Now the diversity of the students became more clearer.
I better not ask him if he actually ate, and digested, an Asura – as another story goes, Lakshman smiled.
“Gurudev,” one of Agastya’s acolytes stepped forward. “Maa says that lunch for the guests has been served.”
The talk of lunch made Lakshman painfully aware of how empty his stomach had been from the morning. They must have walked at least ten yojanas, and had barely eaten anything since daybreak. As the smell of fresh ghee on piping hot rice reached his nostrils, he soon forgot everything about the mysteries troubling him for the past few days, and joined everybody as they moved towards the kitchen of the ashram.
